


Our Solemn Hour

by coldwrapped



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-13 12:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1226944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldwrapped/pseuds/coldwrapped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU post OotP. Songfic for Within Temptation's "Our Solemn Hour". A prisoner of the Death Eaters for over two years reaches a new conclusion while thinking of a song she heard once. (Once a one-shot. Now being changed to a multi-chapter story with a F/F ship on the way.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing, save for my small collection of words and phrases. It all belongs to the creative goddess of our generation, which sadly, really isn't me.
> 
> The song is Our Solemn Hour by Within Temptation, which I also do not own. 
> 
> This is un-betaed, so any mistakes are my own. See one? Let me know!

It was a Muggle song that became her prayer, her all-encompassing hope for an end to the darkness. It was a song she wouldn't have listened to or really liked in the before world, but in the after world, it was everything that she lived and breathed and thought. 

She had been in captivity for over two years, and had started out smug, assuming the best of her people... of the Order. She had blindly assumed that she would be _rescued_ , but she never had been. She fought at first; fought every beating and every torture session, every round of _Cruciatus_. A ghost of a smile crossed her face at the thought of how much harder things had been back then, and how much easier it had become to simply be. These days, she was almost ignored because she did nothing but lie there and take whatever they dished out. They thought she was completely broken, but the truth was that when they came, she simply disappeared into the fortress of her own mind, surrounded by the haunting truth contained in, of all things, a Muggle song. 

_Sanctus Espiritus! Redeem us from our solemn hour_  
 _Sanctus Espiritus! Insanity is all around us_  
 _Sanctus Espiritus! Sanctus Espiritus! Sanctus Espiritus!_

She tried to remember how she had first heard the song, and after a moment, the memory popped up in her mind, as vivid as the day it had happened. Her mind was as sharp as ever it had been; she had simply become good at pretending, at hiding her Gryffindor sensibilities and becoming ever more like her Slytherin captors. 

It was in the before time. She was at Grimmauld Place for an Order meeting. As the meeting came to a close, the younger contingent had decided to hole up in the parlor for a precious hour together before their imposed separation was enforced. Miss Granger had charmed some Muggle electronic device to work without need for batteries, and cast a variation of the _Sonorus_ charm on it so that they could all sit and listen to the music. She was already getting on in years, and took a seat in a far corner of the parlor to regain her strength before attempting Apparition back home. As her head touched the back of the chair in a bit of abnormal relaxation, the strains of what had become her song had started playing, and she found herself mesmerized by its lyrics and haunting melody. 

_In my darkest hours I could not foresee_  
 _That the tide could turn so fast to this degree_  
 _Can't believe my eyes; How can you be so blind?_  
 _Is the heart of stone, no empathy inside?_  
 _Time keeps on slipping away and we haven't learned_  
 _So in the end now what have we gained?_  
  
 _Sanctus Espiritus! Redeem us from our solemn hour_  
 _Sanctus Espiritus! Insanity is all around us_  
 _Sanctus Espiritus! Is this what we deserve_  
 _Can we break free from chains of never-ending agony?_  


Her breath had caught in her throat, and she thought that if the Muggle world had any idea of what was going on around them, they might have written something exactly like this, and so she wondered what had inspired such a strong song to have been written. As the song came to a close, she called over and asked Miss Granger if she would be so kind as to replay it, just once more. She could tell her request confused the younger witch, but she did it anyway. 

_Are they themselves to blame, the misery, the pain?_  
 _Didn't we let go, allowed it, let it grow?_  
 _If we can't restrain the beast which dwells inside_  
 _It will find its way somehow, somewhere in time_  
 _Will we remember all of the suffering_  
 _‘Cause if we fail it will be in vain_

As the song played again, she mused that maybe they had been to blame for everything that had happened to the Wizarding World. The general public had forgotten the terror of Grindelwald, and had not known that Voldemort would surpass him so completely, but maybe someone should have remembered. She had helped in the fight against the first usurper, and not seen Mr. Riddle for what he would be back when they were both students at Hogwarts. Even after having seen what Voldemort could do the first time, people had been so scared that they'd believed the drivel that the Prophet put out about his return, believing themselves safe if they just pretended that he hadn't come back; after all, it was unheard-of for someone to come back from the dead, even in their world of Magic. 

The song had ended again, and she'd left with its words written on her heart and soul. That was the last time she ever saw a member of the Order. 

Two years later, a pinprick of light at the end of the hallway ended her musings. She was sat, slumped against the stone wall at the back of her cell, and she watched them drag another body down the length of the hall. She couldn't make out who the new prisoner was at first, but as they got closer, the blood drained from her face and she couldn't stop the tremors that shook her hands as she recognized the green eyes and black hair of the Boy-Who-Lived. 

The guards threw him into the cell next to hers, and he lay there, unmoving as the light disappeared and the darkness took over once again. She crawled slowly toward the bars separating their cells and tried to reach him, but couldn't make her hand stretch that far. She tried to call his name, but found that two years of torture and capture had rendered her voice nothing but a dusty croak. 

She knew she was looking at a body that was no longer alive. She knew it with every fiber left in her being, but refused to acknowledge the truth. The savior of the Wizarding World, the Boy-Who-Lived, lived no longer. Harry Potter was dead. 

_Sanctus Espiritus! Redeem us from our solemn hour_  
 _Sanctus Espiritus! Insanity is all around us_  
 _Sanctus Espiritus! Is this what we deserve_  
 _Can we break free from chains of never-ending agony?_

After several hours of sitting there watching his body, hoping for some sign of life to disprove the theory that she couldn't make herself think of as true, a single tear fell from the corner of her eye. Acceptance washed over her body; the war was truly over now and the Dark had won. Nobody was coming for her, because if Harry Potter was dead, then surely nobody else from the Order survived. 

This realization broke what the Death Eaters never had been able to, and she fell to the floor, a quiet thump marking the passing of one of the greatest Witches to ever grace the earth. 

Minerva McGonagall finally let go of her life and was gone, along with the last of the Light's hope for saving themselves from Voldemort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depressing, I know, but to appreciate the light, we must accept that the dark exists. I hope you enjoyed this small peek into the bleak future that never was, at least for our Magical heroes and heroines. Sadly enough, there are places in the real world where people are still fighting every day to just stay alive.
> 
> For three years, this has been a one-shot. If you want, you can leave off here with Harry and Minerva dead, and not go any further. I won't judge you for it. However, there is now more, and a possible happy ending to come. Keep going if you're into that.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks. This was supposed to have been a one-shot. It started that way three years ago, and honestly, I haven’t thought about it much since publishing. It’s never been very popular, likely because there was no ship. It was just a stand-alone little ficlet with one character who dies in the end.
> 
> However, recently, I’ve begun writing again. Mostly for Minerva McGonagall/Hermione Granger, and I’m picking up a bit of notoriety in the MM/HG community. This increased affection for Minerva made me go back and read my little one-shot, and I saw a few errors that were easily fixed, so I updated it on FFN and threw it up on AO3 because when I wrote it three years ago, I didn’t have an account there. 
> 
> Alas, in the process of editing, I saw ways I could continue the fic, keep my preferred ship going, and although I’m in the middle of my epic, She Who Turns Time, I am overcome with inspiration to pick this back up, shake off the dust, and turn it into more. 
> 
> I have never been one to deny my muse, because she keeps me going. Therefore, here is the second chapter of Our Solemn Hour that was never meant to be. I don’t see where the song will make another appearance, although since its lyrics had become a bit of a prayer for dear Minerva, the themes may make a resurgence. We’ll see where the muse takes me and go from there, eh?
> 
> You’ll pardon me, I suppose, if I borrow a character or two from my other stories. 
> 
> Last bit of business: I own nothing of Harry Potter. It all belongs to Jo and her various publishers and distributors. The song, of course, belongs to Within Temptation, and if you’ve not actually heard it, go look it up on Youtube. You’ll see what I meant when I said it’s far from Minerva’s normal music choice, and it’s arguably pretty far from what Harry, Hermione, and Ron would be listening to. But that’s the artistic license I’ve chosen. 
> 
> So without further ado, the story goes on.

=======================HG/MM=======================

She woke.

It took her a minute to gain her bearings in the glaring white that surrounded her. She stumbled to her feet, realizing as she stood that she was naked. She started to feel embarrassment, but then she realized she was alone. _Who cares?_

She started walking, and since she appeared to be surrounded by endless white nothingness, she didn’t suppose the direction mattered. It seemed as though she’d been walking for hours, when she first heard the voice penetrate the overwhelming silence.

_Oh god. Minerva! No No No! Minerva!_

“Who’s there?” Her voice echoed in the silent stillness. She started walking again, her hair long and lustrous down her back, brushing the top of her arse with every step. “Where am I going?”

“Does it really matter, my darling?”

She spun around to face the new voice, a lightweight white robe appearing, sleeveless, but falling solid down the back, two tails crossing over her breasts to meet at her waist, falling to demurely cover her nakedness.

There was someone walking slowly toward her, coming gradually into focus as they came closer. Soon she could begin to see details: a robe like hers on a taller body, lithe and muscular, eyes the color of summer violets, lips permanently stained bright red to match the flowing curls of red and blonde.

“Morgan,” she breathed out.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Minerva.” Her low voice still had the ability to light a fire deep in Minerva’s belly, awakening desires long since put to rest.

“Morgan,” she repeated breathlessly. “But… you’re dead; you’ve been dead for twenty-eight years.” Tears came unbidden to spill from her eyes down alabaster cheeks.

Morgan stepped forward and encircled the other woman in her embrace, the two clinging tightly together. “Oh my darling, so are you.”

“I’m what?” Minerva’s head jerked back from the shoulder on which it had been resting.

_Come on, Minerva! Don’t do this to me! Live, damn you, LIVE!_

“And who the bloody hell is that? What’s going on, Morgan?”

“Just as I said, my darling, you died. You gave up. Gods, I’ve missed you. I love you so much.”

“Merlin, you know I love you, too. There hasn’t been a day gone by in twenty-eight years that I haven’t missed you.”

Morgan leaned her head down, capturing Minerva’s lips with her own for a long, gentle kiss. A whimper passed through Minerva’s throat, the expulsion of the sound forcing their lips apart.

“Aye, I’ve missed you, too, Minerva, more than you can ever know. But my darling, it is not yet time for you to be here. I’m afraid you don’t even get the choice to stay. They need you, and you have more living to do.”

Minerva felt a pounding pain in her chest, the first pain she’d felt since waking in the vast whiteness. She hissed and brought one hand up to massage the spot over her heart. “What’s going on, Morgan?”

“Just as I said, love, they’re bringing you back. I won’t lie. There will be pain and there will be heartache, and nothing will be easy, but if you try very hard, my darling, there is happiness to be found as well. Never forget that I will always be here waiting for your return, but while you are yet there, love should always be an option if you can find it. Don’t sit and waste away to nothing just because I’m here. Love, Minerva. Live. And in many years, when you finally return, I’ll be waiting for you, just as I was today.”

Tears streamed down both of their faces, and another pounding pain hit Minerva’s heart. She tried to stand upright, having bent from the pain, wanting to feel Morgan’s kiss just once more before leaving, but just as their lips were about to meet, a last thumping pain whammed her chest, and she breathed in deeply, her eyes opening to find herself back in the stone cell that had been her home for two years.

A wheezing groan left her parched throat, causing a spate of harsh coughing. She turned to her side, closing her eyes, crying and coughing, not feeling the calming hands that rubbed gentle circles into her back over and over. She thought she heard someone mutter the spell to conjure a glass of cool water, and after a moment, she felt the glass being pressed into her hand.

A gentle voice spoke, “Come on Minerva. Sit up and drink a little. It’ll help. Come on now. Sit up.”

She let the hands help guide her upright, scooting to lean against the cold stone, and the glass was pressed back into her hand. “Can you drink, or shall I help you? You need to drink some of this, Minerva. At least a couple sips. Please.” She tried to grasp the glass, but found that her hand didn’t have the strength. “Help it is then. Okay now, open up.”

She slid her lips open just a little and felt as the glass was pressed against them before wonderfully cool liquid began trickling out, past her lips and into her mouth. She closed her mouth and let the few drops of liquid moisten her cracked lips and tongue before opening again for another few drops. It felt blissful to feel her mouth become wet again, and after a few more tries, managed to get a small sip down her throat, the liquid cool yet burning all the way down the inflamed tissue to her stomach. Taking it slowly, she finally drank the entire contents of the small glass, the water having rehydrated her mouth and esophagus, resting uneasily in a stomach which had been empty for far too long.

“Okay, good. Very good, Minerva. Do you feel like you could drink just a bit more for me? It’s not water this time, but it will help you feel better soon. Can you do that?”

Keeping her eyes closed, she nodded and parted her lips once more. After a moment, she tasted the vile bitterness of a restorative draught combined with the sickly sweet of a nutritive potion, and the salty twang of an antiemetic potion. She swallowed each in turn, feeling her rolling stomach calm as the antiemetic potion hit. As the other two began to take hold on her compromised system, she began to feel a little better and opened her eyes, her vision blurry until she reached up to rub them. It cleared up a little, and she felt around the floor for her eyeglasses.

The Death Eaters had let her keep them, cracked and scratched as they were, so she would know whose turn it was to torture her at any particular time. Her fingers finally found them and she began to open them clumsily.

“Oh, no, Minerva. You’ll never be able to see out of those. Let me see them, please.” She handed them over to the faceless voice, thinking she should know who it was, but her mind hadn’t quite caught up from her death experience, and she just didn’t know.

_Can we break free from chains of never-ending agony?_

“What was that, Minerva?” She’d rasped out the words from her memory, but her voice hadn’t yet repaired itself. She shook her head lightly as if to say that it was nothing at all.

“ _Oculus Reparo!_ There you are. You should be able to see now, unless they’ve further damaged your eyes.” The metal frames slid over her ears and the glasses settled into place on her nose. Blinking, she looked back at the source of the calm voice who had been caring for her. _Granger_.

Her mind finally caught up, having a face to go with the voice. She tried to speak, “Thank you, Miss Granger.” What actually came out was a gasped, “ _Sanctus Espiritus!_ ”

She noticed the woman looking at her strangely, wondering why she wouldn’t respond to the thanks.

Then she started yelling. “Oh shit. Guys, get in here! _Quickly_!”

There was something wet on her upper lip below her nose. She raised a hand and pressed a finger to the wetness, pulling back a finger covered in something red. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she knew nothing but darkness.

=======================HG/MM=======================

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a very long update from me, but for this story, I think I’ll stick to shorter updates so I don’t get as bogged down in updates as I do for SWTT. I hope you like where I’m going so far. Reviews are awesome, you know. haha


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing, save for my small collection of words and phrases. It all belongs to the creative goddess of our generation, which is, sadly enough, not me.
> 
> The song is Our Solemn Hour by Within Temptation, which I also do not own.
> 
> Unlike the majority of my work, this will mostly be told from Minerva’s point of view. I may switch to Hermione or someone else at some point for a brief time, but I will always circle back to Minerva. This is her story; these are her solemn hours.
> 
> This is un-betaed, so any mistakes are my own. See one? Let me know!

=======================HG/MM=======================

In the darkness, she heard voices sometimes. Much of what the voices said didn’t make sense, but she strained to hear every word.

_I don’t know what the problem is. Some sort of complication from the CPR?_

CPR? What was that?

_You saved her once already. If there’s a way to keep her here, you’ll find it._

She didn’t want to stay. She wanted to go back to that calm white place and be with Morgan.

_Gods, Harry. We searched for so long and worked so hard. To lose her to this unknown  
something would be a tragedy of epic proportions. I can’t lose her again._

Harry? Wasn’t he dead? Just like James and Lily. Dead. Like Morgan. Dead. Hadn’t she been dead, also? She wonders where the whiteness went as she spirals back to the dark.

=======================HG/MM=======================

It seemed like no time at all had passed, but she could instinctively tell that it had been quite a while since the last snippet of conversation she’d heard.

_If she doesn’t wake up soon, chances aren’t good that she ever will._

Didn’t they know she was awake? Didn’t they know she could hear them? _Hello!_

_She’ll wake up, Hermione. She will. She’s a tough old bird._

She was tough. She was old. A bird? Perhaps not. She would wake up. She would.

_I know, Harry. I know._

Miss Granger certainly had a lot of faith in her. Did she even have that much faith in herself; in her own ability to wake up and live? Of course. She had to. Morgan told her she had to come back. They needed her. She had to wake up. The conversation stopped, and she could feel a warm breath on her ear as someone whispered in it.

_Come on, Minerva. You have to wake up, and soon. I know you’re here.  
I know you can hear me. Come on, now. Wake up._

Oh, someone knew she was _present_. Could she leave the comfort of the dark? Was she strong enough? Could she do it?

She could.

Slowly, her eyelids rose and her lips tried to form words.

“Shh, Minerva. It’s okay. Don’t try to speak.”

She turned her head and winced at the bright light overhead. It dimmed.

“Sorry. Should have thought of that before you woke up. Gods, I was scared you wouldn’t, you know? You’ve given us all quite a fright, Minerva. Welcome back.”

Warm lips pressed to her cheek, and her eyes closed again, tears leaking from the corners. She turned her head away, barely whispering, “Morgan.”

“Morgan? Who’s that, Minerva? I don’t know a Morgan to bring you, or I would.” She could hear the once-calm voice rise in pitch and panic began to take over.

She felt her fingers twitch as she tried to pick her hand up. She managed to lift it only a couple inches, and it felt so heavy hovering there before being caught up by hands that felt like fire on her cold skin. The heat completely enveloped her hand and she squeezed, rasping out, “S’okay.”

“Shh. You shouldn’t try to speak.”

“Thank.” She tried to say thank you, but only got the first word out before her throat caught and she began coughing furiously, her eyes closing reflexively.

Almost immediately, she felt a glass press against her lips, spilling cool water into her mouth to trickle down her abused and dry throat, calming the coughs. Her tongue darted out to catch the two stray drops left on her lips, wishing for more. As though her request had been heard, another sip of water poured from the glass into her mouth. She swallowed gratefully, feeling relief after the drink. The glass was removed, and she tried again with a freshly lubricated throat.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Please, though, try to remain quiet if you can and let everything heal. We have questions, of course, but answers can wait until you’re better. I’m just so happy you’re back, Minerva. You have no idea how happy I am. When I came down the stairs and saw you take your last breath, I thought I’d die with you.” Her hand was wrapped back in the glorious warmth, and she could feel a soft cheek press to its back.

“How?”

“How, what? How did I save you? Of all things, it’s a Muggle life-saving technique called CPR – Cardio-Pulmonary Resuscitation. I breathed my own breath into your lungs and pressed on your chest to get your heart beating again.” The cheek on her hand raised, and soft lips brushed over it before the cheek came back.

“Smart.” She paused to swallow. “Girl.”

“Shh, thank you, but hush. Rest your voice. Just rest.” The back of her hand was growing wet. “I was so scared, Minerva. So scared it wouldn’t work. Afraid I was going to lose you again just after finally finding you again.”

“M’okay.”

“No. You aren’t. But you will be. I’ll make sure of that.” She felt another quick kiss on her hand, and then her arms were being tucked under the warm blanket. She sighed involuntarily at the wonderful warmth surrounding her cold arms and hands, but she missed the gentle contact. “Now, you rest. I’ll be back soon to check on you.” The blankets were pulled up to her shoulders, and the lights were turned off, leaving her in near darkness.

As she was drifting off, she felt a kiss ghost across her cheek, and she smiled. “Sleep well, Minerva.”

=======================HG/MM=======================


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing, save for my small collection of words and phrases. It all belongs to the creative goddess of our generation, which is, sadly enough, not me.
> 
> The song is Our Solemn Hour by Within Temptation, which I also do not own.
> 
> To clarify a point, this story went AU after fifth year, and none of the events of HBP or DH happened, although certain details and characters may come into play for this story, such as the Horcruxes. Dumbledore did not die, and did not curse himself with the ring. Some Pottermore backstory will be used, including Minerva’s status as a half-blood. I do maintain the original 1925 birth year, however. 
> 
> To assist in forming a timeline, although HBP/DH did not happen as such, Minerva was taken three years after the events of OOTP, which, if you do your math, is a year after the Trio would have left school. Two years of captivity later, our story picks up in 2001, making Minerva 75 and Hermione 21. For explanation on what this would mean in terms of appearance and aging, please see my Resources website as linked on my author profile.
> 
> This is un-betaed, so any mistakes are my own. See one? Let me know!

=======================HG/MM=======================

Her brilliant green eyes opened. The room wasn’t fully dark, but it wasn’t as blindingly bright as it had been the last time she woke. Testing herself, she raised first one arm, then the other. The movement didn’t cause her as much trouble as before. When her right hand fell back to the bed, she felt the familiar shape of her eyeglasses and smiled. She unfolded them and fitted them into place, finally able to see more than vague, blurry shapes in the dim light.

The room she was in was painted white with a white ceiling and white tile floors. There was a narrow wooden wardrobe in one of the far corners, and a door leading to the restroom in the other. There was one small window on the wall next to the wardrobe, and a chair made of metal and some kind of strange blue material was sat under it. The corner behind her left side held a small end table next to her bed, and the other side of the bed was filled with blinking machines, that wall leading to a door. One of the small machines had a metal pole jutting from the top, a large plastic bag hanging from a curl at the top. She followed the clear tubing back down to the machine, and then down and around to find that it was attached somehow to her arm.

_What is this?_

Shrugging it off until she could find someone to ask, she took a closer look at the strange bed in which she was laid. It had some kind of thick rails along either side to prevent her from falling to the floor in her sleep, and there was a clear container hanging at the end, filled with a yellowish liquid. She followed the tubing from that, surprised to see it disappear under her blanket. Using her left hand, she raised the blanket to finish tracing its path up to … She dropped the blanket, blushing furiously when she saw where _that_ was connected. Suddenly the yellow fluid made sense, as did the fact that she didn’t need to use the toilet after being asleep for so long.

The bed was angled up behind her, allowing her to sit up a bit, but still reclining at a comfortable enough angle to allow her to sleep. All in all, it was a fairly standard modern Muggle hospital room, which was not a place Minerva McGonagall had ever been.

Her cheeks were still hot and red following her discovery of the catheter when the door opened and closed quickly, admitting Hermione Granger into the room. “I would say good morning, Miss Granger, but I’m not exactly sure it _is_ morning.”

“You’re awake! And speaking very well. That’s good.” The brunette woman beamed at Minerva. “To answer the question you almost asked, yes, it is morning.” She glanced down at her wristwatch. “It’s nearly half-eight. How are you feeling?”

What a ridiculous question. “I am … better than I was when last I awoke. Better than I’ve been in quite some time. I’m still horribly weak, and apparently there are tubes in places I’d rather no one had seen, much less put their hands, as well as one which is somehow attached to my arm, for reasons I have yet to ascertain. Could you possibly explain any of this?”

She could see the other woman’s cheeks flush nearly as bright and hot as hers had moments earlier. “The, ah, catheter tube,” her eyes flicked toward Minerva’s lower body and back, “is because you’re unable to stand and make it to the toilet yet. The other tube is feeding you desperately needed fluids. You were so dehydrated when we found you. Muggle medicine can be quite ingenious in some ways.”

“Muggle medicine?” She was confused.

“Yes. You’re in a Muggle hospital. It was the safest place we could find to bring you on such short notice.”

“We?”

“Harry and I. We’re the ones who found you. Fred and George were there as well. Fred’s actually the one who carried you out after you lost consciousness.”

“The Weasley twins. One of them … carried me?”

“Your nose started bleeding and you passed out. We were afraid one of the potions I gave you had caused an allergic reaction or something, so I cast a couple quick diagnostic spells and got you out of there. Harry had the idea of bringing you here because the nursing staff can keep a rudimentary eye on you when we can’t be here.”

“Harry? But,” she breathed in deeply, hoping she hadn’t seen what she thought she had, “They brought Harry down. Dead. I saw his body.” She didn’t feel the tear crawling down her cheek.

“It wasn’t him. It was a Death Eater that I glamoured and transfigured to look like Harry before we cast the _Imperious_ on him and sent him in as a distraction. I’d say I’m sorry he died, but I’m not. They’d have done worse to us if given half the chance.” There was a bitter tone to her voice.

“Have I been gone as long as I think I have?”

“I’m not sure how long you think you’ve been gone, but they took you two years, three months, and nine days ago. We took you back three days ago.” She watched as Hermione’s eyes closed and she inhaled jaggedly. “One day ago, we finally killed Voldemort.”

“He’s dead? Really dead this time?” She didn’t want to allow her heart to hope, but if it was true… Mercy.

Bitter laughter burst from Hermione’s mouth. “Oh yes. He’s definitely dead this time. We finally destroyed his final Horcrux the night we found you, and yesterday, Harry faced him down for the last time, along with myself and Ginny. He’s gone. We saw the frightened light leave his red eyes and burned the body until not a single speck of ash remained.” Her normally soft brown eyes were hard, her lips drawn tightly over her teeth, nose flaring as she breathed hard.

The tear she hadn’t felt earlier was joined by several of its brethren. Before she could stop herself, she was sobbing loudly, and Hermione grabbed her hand. “He’s _GONE_ , Minerva. Once and for all, he’s fucking _GONE_.” She pulled at their joined hands, and Hermione came in closer. Another tug and a whispered “Please” had Hermione settled next to her on the bed, arms wrapped around each other with Hermione’s head nestled under Minerva’s chin, tears and soft breaths falling on her neck.

They lay like that, crying and taking comfort from each other for a couple of hours, stopping when they heard a strange series of beeps from one of Minerva’s little machines.

Hermione sat up a little, supported by one of her elbows, using her free hand to caress one side of Minerva’s face, Minerva leaning lightly into her palm. Her green eyes cut upward to meet Hermione’s brown ones, neither of them daring to move. Slowly, Hermione leaned forward and down, not breaking their eye contact, and softly pressed her lips to Minerva’s other cheek. She held the kiss for a few seconds only, but it felt like an eternity to both of them before Hermione pulled back and stood, leaving the comfort of the bed and Minerva’s embrace.

She cleared her throat, shaking her head slightly. “Okay, now let’s see what’s going on here.” She pulled a small pair of glasses from her pocket and sat them on her nose, tucking the arms behind her ears. Minerva smirked at her, and she just shrugged and said, “All the reading of tiny-print by candlelight and the light of a _Lumos_ spell had to have an effect at some point, right?”

Studying the beeping machine, she pressed a few buttons, and it went silent. “You’re nearly out of fluids in this bag. I know you’re feeling better, but let’s keep them going just a bit longer, yeah? It’ll help a lot.”

“If I must.”

“I think you absolutely must.” It was Hermione’s turn to smirk at the scowling bedridden witch. She reached toward the side rail, pressing a red button. A light started flashing, and a moment later, there was a voice from nowhere. “May I help you?”

“Yes, her saline drip is nearly empty. Can you order a new bag and have it brought up, please?”

“Of course, Doctor. Is that all?” Minerva craned her head around, seeing the flashing light on the little box in the wall.

“Yes, thank you.”

Hermione went around the bed to collect the strange chair, bringing it around to the other side of the bed, and setting it down so she could sit within reach of Minerva’s hand. Minerva would never have said it, but she was happy to feel the comfort of the other woman’s touch as their hands lay together, palms together and fingers brushing against the tender inner wrist.

“So I’ve been gone two and a quarter years. What have I missed?” She hoped Hermione would realize what she was really asking.

The quickly indrawn breath was enough to let her know that Hermione had, in fact, understood.

“We’ve fought hard, both on the main front and in our efforts to find you, or at least some sign of where you’d been to allow for, if necessary, a proper burial.” She watched as Hermione’s throat moved as she swallowed hard. “Our losses haven’t been numerous, but they have been substantially profound in their significance. Arthur and Molly went down together, taking Bellatrix Lestrange with them. T – Tonks was taken soon after you were and her body was left at the gates of the school soon after.”

She felt her hand being squeezed and saw the tears begin to drip from Hermione’s cheeks, falling to land on the legs of her black trousers.

“Kingsley fell with the Ministry several months ago, and just last week, in the raid which led to our being able to finally find you, we suffered our final loss.”

She squeezed Hermione’s hand in return, a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Who?”

Hermione’s lowered eyes rose to meet Minerva’s own quickly welling ones. “Ron.”

=======================HG/MM=======================


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I own nothing, save for my small collection of words and phrases. It all belongs to the creative goddess of our generation, which is, sadly enough, not me.
> 
> The song is Our Solemn Hour by Within Temptation, which I also do not own.
> 
> This is un-betaed, so any mistakes are my own. See one? Let me know!

=======================HG/MM=======================

“Oh, my dear.” Minerva wanted to say so many things, but suddenly, her words deserted her, and that was all that would come out. Instead, she squeezed lightly at Hermione’s hand and felt as the younger woman squeezed back. She needed to say something. “I....”

She was interrupted by a swinging door, as a nurse bustled in with the replacement saline bag. Hermione’s hand released her own, taking from the nurse a metal clipboard with Minerva’s paperwork attached and reading over the notes quickly. The nurse’s movements in replacing the bag of intravenous fluids were quick and practiced, twisting the nozzle free and tossing the empty one before removing the tabbed cover from the new one and fitting the nozzle back into place firmly. She pressed a series of buttons, resulting in a quick spate of beeps from the little machine as it settled back into its quiet rhythm.

“Can you mark the fluid bag on her chart, Doctor?” She spoke briskly, a model of efficiency.

“Of course. Go ahead and take care of the output container as well. It’s getting a bit full.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Minerva blushed lightly as the nurse retrieved a basin from the restroom and emptied out the urine container, verbally making a note of how much was inside so Hermione could add it to the chart. She disappeared back into the restroom, and Minerva could hear the sounds of the basin being emptied and rinsed, followed by the toilet flushing.

“Is that all?”

“Yes, that will be all for now. Thank you.” Hermione handed the chart back to the nurse, who left, silently closing the door behind her. Hermione reached up and pulled her eyeglasses off, folding them and tucking them back into her pocket.

“Your last round of blood work indicates that you’re still severely lacking in some essential vitamins and minerals, but happily enough, we can take care of that the easy way, and they’ll be none the wiser.” She pulled small bottle from the inner pocket of her jacket, and Minerva recognized the faint pinkish brown color of a nutritive potion. Hermione handed it over, and she swallowed the sickly sweet potion, grimacing at the flavor. The empty bottle disappeared to somewhere, and Hermione held out a small glass of water. “I know those potions are disgusting, even if it is sweet and not sour like some of them. Drink up.”

She quickly drank the glass of water, swishing the first sip around her mouth to rinse the potion out. As with the potion bottle, the water glass disappeared when handed back to Hermione.

“That should help. We still have a long way to go to get you back to full health, but we’re nearly there on the basics. If your afternoon tests come back more positive, we’ll see about getting rid of the catheter and IV by dinner, and then depending on how well you’re doing, we can get you back to the magical world and away from the Muggles tomorrow morning.”

“Doctor Granger?” One eyebrow rose to a high arch above her eye.

Hermione shrugged lightly, avoiding eye contact. “I forged papers for the Muggles. I’m really more of a battlefield medic, but Poppy’s been working with me the last couple years, so I’m not completely useless. If… If I’d started the training earlier, I might have,” she paused for a second, fighting tears, “but I couldn’t save her.”

“Oh.” Minerva didn’t know what else to say.

There was a faraway look in Hermione’s eyes as she stared out the window, unconsciously running her fingers over a thin chain around her neck, and she spoke with a low, calm voice, laced with pain. “Things just happened so fast. It wasn’t ever supposed to be… it was meant to be an experiment for both of us, an incident of war that peacetime would never have brought about. Neither of us had any experience, you know? We each had our unattainable person and our person who would have given anything for just a chance, but we were both mourning the ones we couldn’t have, and something grew from that. Something beautiful in its fragility.

“And then,” she gripped the chain mercilessly, her hand white at certain points from the pressure, “and then she was gone. I found her crumpled on the ground, almost dead, but not quite gone yet. If I’d had even a little of my training, maybe I could have saved her, but I knew nothing, and she paid the price. I swore that nobody else would ever pay that price for my ignorance again, and nobody has.

“You have no idea how I felt when we finally, _finally_ found you, and you were warm but not breathing and your heart wasn’t beating. I thought my own heart would burst from the pressure. I couldn’t have you, of all people, be the next one I couldn’t save.” She released her hold on the chain, and Minerva was surprised she hadn’t snapped it. She reached over to slip her hand into Minerva’s, still looking out the window without seeing anything. “I swore a different vow to her as she lay there dying. I vowed that if my unattainable person was ever found, I wouldn’t stop until they at least knew how I felt.”

As she spoke, the wheels in Minerva’s mind were going full-tilt, putting pieces together from the little she’d been told. Hermione and Tonks? Who was this person she couldn’t have? What about Mr. Weasley? Was he the other one she mentioned? Why such concern over an old woman like herself? _I couldn’t have you, of all people, be the next one I couldn’t save._ Why her? Hermione wasn’t finished speaking, however, so Minerva remained quiet, allowing the young woman to say what she needed to in order to feel better. In lieu of words, she squeezed Hermione’s hand, turning them so that their fingers were interlaced.

Hermione’s eyes flicked briefly to their hands before returning her sightless gaze to the window. “I know this isn’t the best time to do this, Minerva, but at least for the moment, I have you as a captive audience, and if I don’t do this now, I may never work up the nerve. I can’t break my last promise to her. I won’t.” She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, the motion causing the buildup of tears to start falling, pouring down her cheeks in a glitteringly beautiful expression of her pain.

“I love you. I don’t expect that you feel the same, as I’m a woman, and I was all too recently your student, and you’re just coming out of over two years in the hands of Death Eaters, enduring a hellish existence that I can’t even begin to imagine, but I promised her I’d tell you, and now I have. I love you. I’ve loved you for what seems like forever, and I think I’ll love you for the rest of my life. A piece of me has been missing the entire time you were gone, and I nearly shattered when we found you like that. I don’t know if you could ever think of another woman the way I think of you, or if you could ever see me the way I see you, but I needed to tell you. I needed you to know.”

Minerva couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Of course she was inclined toward women, or at least she had been inclined to one woman for thirty years before Voldemort struck her down in the first war. But she had always been intensely private, and had been with no one since Morgan, so how _could_ Hermione know? Maybe it was time to talk about things.

“I am, or rather I consider myself to be,” she stumbled to find the right word, opting for the clinical form, “homosexual.” Hermione’s eyes shot open and she looked at Minerva, shocked at the response. “You have been very open in telling me your story today, Miss… Hermione. Perhaps you would be willing to listen for a moment as I tell you mine.

“I was eighteen and fresh from Hogwarts. I had never given any thought to boys or dating, instead choosing to concentrate on my studies and on getting the best education I could. I had just begun my first job with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, working as a secretary and filing clerk, and I was beginning to feel the tedium. The war with Grindelwald was very intense, and the Muggle war was raging over London as the Germans bombed us relentlessly. In my boredom with my new position, I petitioned for a more active role, so they brought in a consultant to ascertain my fighting abilities.

“The consultant’s name was Morgan Stewart. The first time I saw her, I felt things I never knew existed. She spent a week testing me, and we danced around each other the entire time. I had no idea such a thing was possible, but she was five years older than me and had this worldly air about her that I found irresistible. The final test was intensely physical, and when it ended with me finally having beaten her, she grinned at me and I launched myself at her, surprising myself with the ferocity of the kiss and how passionate it was.

“She cleared me for active duty, we petitioned to have me put on her team, and for the remainder of the war, she and I were inseparable. When the war was over, we found a flat in London, and both kept working for the DMLE. We kept our relationship quiet, because in those days, it just wasn’t something that was acceptable. We lived blissfully in our little bubble for ten years before I could no longer put up with the tedium of politics and – to be frank – bullshit that came from working in the Ministry. I wrote to Albus, having heard rumors that Professor Dippet was retiring and that he was being considered for the promotion, and he hired me on as the Transfiguration Professor without any questions.

“I met with him once before the term began, and asked if Morgan would be allowed to stay with me and use the Floo network to get herself to work and back every day. He agreed, surprised to know of the nature of our relationship, but with his own history, he couldn’t fault me for who I loved.

“We were happy then. I enjoyed teaching, she enjoyed her position in the Ministry, and we loved each other fiercely. Then Voldemort began his reign of terror, and she was reassigned to the Department of Mysteries as a hit-witch. I was so afraid it would be the end of her, and in the end, it was. She was sent out on assignment one bitterly cold night late in 1973, set to find and kill one of his inner circle members, and she never returned.

“I was with no one before her, and have been with no one else since. So you say you don’t know if I could ever want a woman the way you want me? I have and I do. I ache for her every night she’s not with me. Time has not dulled the edges of that pain, nor do I think it will ever. As to the question of whether I could see you the way you see me, I can only say I don’t know. I have never spared a thought to anyone else since I was eighteen years old.

“What I do know is that you are an extraordinary woman, Hermione. Even without knowing everything that’s happened in the time I was in that cellar, I can tell that. You have always been exceptional, and any woman would be lucky to be the recipient of your regard. I don’t know what might come to grow between us, but as of right now, I’m sorry to say that I do not return your feelings. I would like to be your friend, if you would allow that, but further than that, I simply cannot say.”

“I think I can accept that.”

=======================HG/MM=======================

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More later, darling readers. I promise I will address the gaping holes in my plot and timeline soon. I wanted to get a brief update out today, however, as a present to you from me on this, the occasion of my birthday. Thank you for being patient and dealing with me and my fickle muse.


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